


The Shaping

by hightechzombie



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hightechzombie/pseuds/hightechzombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sokolov finally knew how the artwork was to be shaped, it was too late. </p><p>Art is eternal. Human lives are not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shaping

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [None](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/34840) by ufficiosulretro. 



Sokolov had no time for projects of his own and this fact drained at his endurance more than the cold and the lack of sleep. Every second of a fleeting life seemed to be eaten up by senseless commissions and technological innovations. Yet his defiant mind kept getting excited about artworks that would never be, useless things he had no time for. Details would pop up in his mind and he would meticulously plan the projects whose outlines where lost in fog.

Part of him regretted not having sculpted, or at least not to the degree to which Delilah did. Her marvelous pieces broke his quiet disdain for this artform and even poisoned his mind with envy. The antidote, of course, was to transform the envy into passion, as he has done during the episode with Pierro. Accomplishments of a rival made Sokolow furious and the fiery anger allowed him to surpass the man. Pierro was a good inventor, just not as brilliant as Sokolov. (As if there could be any doubt.)

As for Delilah — she got away. Sokolov had no time for sculpting, not while the flood was raising, threatening to drown everything he worked on. His pupil was gone, having earned his begrudging respect and soaked up everything he had to teach.

Loyalty meant nothing to an artist. Just as Delilah discarded her master, Sokolov had discarded the death of the Empress. He owed Jessamine gratitude, but he was always dedicated to a greater mistress, one that surpassed everything. Neither did Sokolov stay in Dunwall out of sentimitality for the wailing city, for while others may flee as rats, Sokolov could not.

His life's work was hanging on the mansion's walls, his machines stirred the city to life and his potions would eventually cure it.

Humans die and fail. Art remains. Sokolov had no choice but preserve his own work.

————————————— 

  


One of those unfinished and unstarted projects were the Empress and her Lord Protector. Two figures carved from the same stone, hard edges combined with fleeting lines. It was natural to see them together, yet Sokolov had only ever drawn them separately from each other. Capturing their bond was a frustrating task that he set for himself. But not only did each attempt fail, Sokolov also felt that he lacked the right approach.

Yet one day, during a needlessly drawn out audience, the lights malfunctioned and cast darkness over the room. Shadows cloaked Jessamine and Corvo and connected their shapes. The moment imprinted itself in Sokolov's mind and roused his imagination. Yes, indeed, it was the only way!

But there was no time. Lord Protector departed soon on a futile mission and after he returned, it was the Empress who embarked on a dark and cold journey.

Sokolov would never again be given a chance to carve the two as one. That was the true tragedy and he would spit on anyone who would accuse him of being callow. Death — even that of an Empress! — is common and impossible to avoid. Such things repeat themselves over and over again, but an artist like Sokolov is rare. The peculiar bond between the Empress and her Protector may be even rarer.

His failure taunted him.

————————————— 

  


As juicy the gossip and exciting the prospect was, Sokolov never believed Emily was Corvo's child. He had an eye for such things and his observations were almost always correct. Corvo's love was deep and unfathomable, but there was no lust between him and the Empress.

The accusations of murder was obviously wrong as well, but Sokolov did not intervene. Corvo was useful once, but now he was a piece of string caught between the cogs. He was just doing his duty, but there is no room for sentimentality in the politics machine. You need to try out the new prototype after the old one failed. 

Sokolov was always practical. Another difference between him and Pierro.

————————————— 

  


Corvo Attano must have changed. Such events always leave trace. Sokolov believed the Regent will allow him to at least sketch the former bodyguard before his death. While Burrows' goal might be to document the humiliation, Sokolov himself was interested in the transformation.

Corvo's hair was already unseemly long when he arrived in Dunwall. Six months later it must have become a black tangled mess that made him look like a criminal. Hunched stature, most likely. Cold damp cell is killing his joints, while the torturer's tools haven taken care of the rest.

A broken man. But if it was that easy, if that was all there was, Anton Sokolov would have not been interested.

He imagines Corvo standing on his knees before the chopping block. Head tilted forward and the hair obscuring his features. But his shoulders straight and spine as if made of steel. This posture is not a sign of resignation. There is no arrogance and no shame in his eyes.

A reckoning, is what Sokolov imagines. An empty promise, of course, but the image lights his mind afire and excites the artist in him.

————————————— 

  


It will rain during the execution. It's all it ever does these days.

The gloom will not be dispersed with wine and the posh uniforms will look out of place. But Corvo will feel at home.

Black fingernails — no, they must have torn them out —, grey clothes, black hair and a dead heart. The man might stumble on the gravel road, but he will not fall. His desperation is deep and yet he cannot fall. Something sustains him.

When Corvo tilts his head something will be lurking behind the cascade of his hair. The shadows that once bound him with the Empress will fester once again, but the darkness has changed as has the man. What once linked with Jessamine is now rooted in death.

The shadows are a perfect mask and Corvo wears it with grace.


End file.
